tangible on the bank, the casual passer-by will not detect the presence of the crime. Everybody knows that a hat on the bank is the recognised sign of a corpse in the water. You can wear my cricket cap up to town."

Now it fell out that in the street of the village where it was proposed to have lunch, and to hire their boat, Mr. Robert Daventry saw a lady of his acquaintance coming towards them, and he turned up a back way rather abruptly. This did not escape his companion's notice, who began to crossexamine him upon the subject. Robert, intent upon his scheme, was not inclined to waste time in idle words, and said so with a sweetness that proved exasperating.

66

The lady said, You coward, you are ashamed to be seen with me."

Bob said, in his turn a little angry-for no one likes the epithet of coward-" Perhaps you think I ought to introduce you about the place as the girl I'm going to marry ?

Then the waiter was seen standing inside the door, looking for an opportunity to announce to the visitors that their boat was ready. So they laughed and were friends again.

They were a little nervous as they went down to the water. Indeed, it is hard not to be nervous, when on the edge of perpetrating a practical joke. It is only the most callous and practised performer who can venture boldly, where failure must entail ridicule.

Mr. Daventry sculled in silence up stream, until they reached a spot which seemed admirably suited to their purpose. This was a small reach about

four hundred yards long, and hidden from the gaze of anyone who chanced to be above or below, by the abrupt winding of the stream.

Here he turned into the bank, and helped his accomplice out.

"Leave your hat," he said, "and run down stream about a quarter of a mile, and you will see the station quite near the river. Here's my cap. K's at 8.30. Shove her out with your foot."

He went on sculling up stream. She, in obedience to his instructions began to run down the bank. As she did so, she turned every now and then to watch him, for he was a good-looking man, and the sculling action suited him. Seeing which he took one of his hands off his sculls every now and then, and waved a little encouragement to her in the prosecution of their splendid joke. And he came to the up-corner, and she came to the downcorner, and he began to disappear from her gaze, and she hung over the brink to watch him, and, alas, she slipped. Vainly she clutched at all within her grasp; the rotten twigs snapped, the rotten bank yielded, she slipped further, and fell in.

Two hours afterwards the body was found by a passer-by, who noticed the hat lying on the bank. Mr. Robert Daventry's cap was firmly clutched in her convulsive grasp.

In the meantime the gentleman had further elaborated his joke. Why should there be only one person drowned? Why not two or more?

To think was to act. Your practical joker is above all things careless of the personal property of other people. Mr. Daventry headed for the other bank, landed, turned the boat bottom uppermost and sent it spinning with a kick down stream. Then he walked rapidly to the nearest railway station.

That evening he was arrested for murder.

At his trial the following points were clearly made out by the prosecution :

He had quarrelled with the deceased at the Horn
Inn before starting on the fatal expedition,
and had said that he would not marry her.
He looked very pale on starting.

Later he was seen to turn the boat over and kick
it down stream, and then to start running into
the country.

When arrested his hand was severely scratched, and his shirt cuff nearly torn off.

There were signs of a scuffle on the bank, and the victim had the prisoner's cap in her hand. The theory of the prosecution was that he had been strolling along the bank with the unfortunate girl-the mark where the boat had been put in had been found by a detective--that he had quarrelled with her and had pushed her into the river. That he had then turned the boat over, hoping to make his act appear the result of an accident.

For the defence the true story was told.
He was found guilty.

In reply to the awful question of the judge whether he had anything to say why the utmost penalty should not be inflicted, he said, “My Lord, it was all a joke."

Many have sung, and many have narrated, the charms of mediocrity, but no one appreciates it highly for himself. But few consider themselves commonplace. Yet occasionally it will be borne in upon a man that he is but an average specimen. Sometimes he will sit down under his fate, and will court only the average destiny; holding all public achievements as very wondrous, for in this way his inability to perform them may be best excused. Sometimes he will turn hither and thither, vaguely, hurriedly, inconsequentially, if haply he may cheat his own mediocrity, or encompass fame by some rapid bye-path.

Robert Daventry was mediocre, and his soul loathed mediocrity. And he did not die for nothing.

"The Evening Scorpion" had in their office a manuscript signed with the assassin's name. It had been the design of the editor to lose this work, for he had employed the accompanying stamps in his urgent correspondence. But now he saw a more honourable course open to him. He published the story with a fac-simile of Robert's signature attached, and he sold two editions of the paper on the day of issue.

O. J.

New York route, had arrived in Montreal a day earlier than myself.

Thus, within about ten days, I had twice by the purest accident, met the same individual, at places nearly 5,000 miles apart, and in different continents, when in each case I had the best of reasons for supposing him to be in the other.

MILLER CHRISTY.

CORRESPONDENCE.

A year or two ago, I had occasion to pay several visits to America. On one of these (I think in 1887) I was in a Liverpool tramcar, on my way to join a steamer of the Allan Line, when there entered a certain official of the Canadian Government with whom I was well acquainted, and whom I expected to meet on my arrival at my destination. I was not aware that he was then in Europe, but it turned out that he had, for a time, left his official duties on sick leave. My friend left the matter he was at the moment engaged upon and came down to the docks to see me off. His last words, just as the vessel was moving, were: "God-bye. I shall be in- -[naming a well-known Canadian city] about a fortnight after you will arrive there."

I landed at Halifax, Nova Scotia, and travelled over the Intercolonial Line to Montreal. An hour or two later, as I was seated in the writing-room of the Windsor Hotel, attending to some corre spondence, I felt a touch on the shoulder and looking up, I saw the friend from whom I had parted in Liverpool only about ten days before. At first, I confess, the idea occured to me that it was for the Psychical Society; but his cheerful salute, "Well, Christy, here we are again," at once proved the reverse. He pro. ceeded to explain that, having been recalled by cable, through pressing business, a fortnight earlier than the date when he had told me he should leave, he had left Liverpool by an "Ocean Greyhound" the day after I did and travelling by the quicker

a case

someone

We have all heard of those misguided individuals who are so anxious to shine in the literary world that they are eager to pay even a disreputable publisher to "bring out" their lucubrations; but here we have a new genus of simpleton. Mirabile dictu, the author of a "well-reviewed" (not necessarily, however, a successful) novel is willing to pay 25 per cent. to anyone who will "place" two others! "M," whoever he or she may be, must be singularly innocent of anything except the writing of the two MSS. in question to suppose that the author of a wellreviewed novel would find insuperable difficulties in placing the MSS. in question if they were worth printing at all. If he cannot do this alone, no third party would be able to get them placed, unless payment were made for publication. Let "M" no longer tempt sharks by foolish advertisements. It would cost him much less to submit his work to the Society, and take their advice.

II.

A NEW READING UNION.

The world of novelists should be interested in a society of working miners and others, which has been formed at Backworth, in Northumberland, for the study of classical novels. After a course of lectures upon fiction had been given by Mr.

Moulton, of Cambridge, it was found that hardly any of the greatest works of fiction were known to his hearers, and this effort to popularise them was the outcome. The members of the union agree to read a specified novel every two months, meet for discussion, and write papers upon some given points. They ask novelists or other literary authorities to assist them by suggesting main ideas to be kept in view while reading a subject for debate, and another for the essays. At the head of their circular stand these true words, "Literature is the Science of Life, and the great classical novels are among life's best text books. To study these is the true antidote to trashy and poisonous fiction." The books already read, or to be read, include "Vanity Fair,' ""The Newcomes,"" Silas Marner," "Romola," "Anne of Geierstein," "Woodstock," "Sintram," "Westward Ho!" "Jane Eyre," "'93," "Les Misérables," "Persuasion," "Wives and Daughters," "Martin Chuzzlewit," "Tale of Two Cities," "Put yourself in his place," &c. Many authors of standing have helped them with ready kindness, and it is hoped that others on reading this may write to the secretary, Mr. J. Barrow, Northumberland Terrace, Backworth, Newcastle-on-Tyne. It is self-evident that books suggested should be such as are published in cheap

editions.

Necessarily the books chosen must be get-at-able in cheap editions.

IV.

NOVELS IN A BATCH.

A correspondent sends us, as an illustration of the care and thoroughness with which the reviewing of novels in the batch is conducted, the interesting fact that a genealogical work, published in the summer, was lately noticed in one of the leading reviews as a novel among the weekly batch!

V.

THE GENEROSITY OF THE RELIGIOUS SOCIETY.

Further particulars have now been received as to the case of munificent generosity on the part of a religious publishing society, recorded in the November Author. The book in question was published by this religious publishing societynot the Society for Promoting Christian Knowledge at the price of two shillings. On a royalty of 5 per cent., which is iniquitous and sweating, the writer would receive £5 a thousand. On a royalty of 10 per cent., which is also a sweating royalty, the author would receive £10 a thousand. On a royalty of twopence in the shilling, or 16 per cent., he would receive £16 138. 4d. for every thousand. If 3,000 copies were sold, the following is the estimated result :

:

Publisher's profits Author

60

45

£

30

45

The generous society, however, did not give any royalty at all. They gave the writer the magnificent, princely sum of £12!!!! It is only a religious society which can be so truly, nobly generous. It will be remembered by those who read a little pamphlet, published last year, called the "Literary Handmaid of the Church," that one of the many princely acts of the Society for Promoting Christian Knowledge was to give an author £12 for a book of which 6,000 copies were sold, and to refuse anything more, although the author pleaded that they had promised more if the book should prove

a

success. How wonderfully do these societies promote the cause of true religion! With what self-sacrificing courage do they hold aloft the banner of justice! Let us always and always thank Heaven for the religious publishing society!

SIR,

VI.

THE BOOKMAN.

27, Paternoster Row, London, 25th November, 1891.

IN the last number of the Author you refer to a letter by a lady authoress published in the first number of the Bookman. You say that the letter is "endorsed by the editor." You go further, and actually declare that on a six shilling book a profit to the author of £75, and to the publisher of £305, is "the full and equal royalty advocated by the Bookman!"

No more gross misrepresentations could possibly be imagined.

So far from endorsing the letter, I added the following note:

"The spirit of this letter is worthy of all admiration, but it should be remembered—(1) that on the matter of royalties well-known writers should not be put on a level with beginners; and (2) that the writer of the letter was in the habit of publishing books which sold at a low price, and contained a good deal of matter.”

Ignoring this note, you attempt to make out that I considered a royalty of one penny a shilling on a very popular six shilling book as fair. No such thing. The author of the letter was referring to books selling about one shilling and sixpence and two shillings, and so long as to involve quite as much setting as an average six-shilling volume. On such, I believe, a royalty of one penny per shilling may be fair, but I expressed no opinion

even on that.

On a book priced at six shillings and selling well, I agree with you that a much higher rate may be paid; in fact, my note was written to make this clear. But I do not accept your statements on this subject. How can an addition of a thousand copies of a six-shilling volume be all sold? Out of a thousand a considerable number would be sent to reviewers, and could not, therefore, be included in an estimate of money received. But I have no hesitation in saying that the great majority of books published at six shillings do not reach anything like a sale of a thousand. Several hundred copies have to be got rid of for what they will bring. And you take no account of the element of time, one book selling a thousand in a day, another struggling through its thousand in ten years. need not say that this consideration should influence the whole reckoning

I

I now desire to put a direct question. I am, and have been for years, a member of the Society of Authors. Many of the contributors to the Bookman are also members. None of us, as far as I know, have ever given you permission to speak

our minds on all subjects. We acquiesce in the publication of the Author at the expense of the Society, because we think that, on the whole, it does good, though I, for one, do not see why it should not easily pay its way. But some of us, at least, feel when we read you on such subjects as "The man of the magnificent imagination," "Titles for Authors," &c., as you feel towards the Spectator. If we cared to use your own elegant language, we should say, we are "grieved and humiliated to see such stuff in your columns." Our trouble is that you talk as if you had a right to be our spokesman. You say to me, "As a society of bookmen and book women, we would earnestly invite, &c. Who gave you a right to say that ? At what meeting of the Society of Authors was this invitation resolved upon? Did the Committee authorise you to extend it? Or is it simply you, the conductor of the paper, who are speaking without authority from any other human being? If so, I venture to suggest that the practice of speaking for men who have given you no authority to represent them, and who repudiate many of your most cherished opinions, should be dropped at once. Let the opinions be given simply as those of Mr. Walter Besant, and they will receive the respect they are entitled to, and from none more willingly than from,

Sir,

Your obedient Servant,

The Editor of the "BOOKMAN.”

NOTES ON THE ABOVE.

1. "Endorsed by the Editor." The lady who wrote the letter did so on the assumption that a royalty of a penny in the shilling was a fair royalty -the usual royalty-and that it gave the writer as much as it left the publisher. This was the whole point of her letter, and it was entirely erroneous. The Editor did not correct these misstatements. He let them pass. If he did not endorse them, what did he do? Our readers, however, have his words before them. They may judge for themselves.

2. Whether the book is a shilling book or a six shilling book, the proportion is the same. The example of a six shilling book is given as the most convenient and the most intelligible.

3. Why should well-known writers receive more than beginners on a royalty? A royalty gives so much a copy. The beginner will not be in such great demand as the well-known writer, and will, therefore, on the same royalty, get less.

4. "The writer was in the habit of publishing books at a low price containing a good deal of

matter." Well, I have myself published books for a shilling each containing as much matter as is found in most six shilling books. But never, certainly, for a penny royalty. So that I speak from personal experience and not from theory.

5. "How can an edition of a thousand copies of a six shilling edition be all sold?" You may deduct thirty or so for press copies. The rest will be all sold if the book is successful to that extent. If it is not going to be successful to so small an extent the publisher will beforehand-and quite rightly-make the author pay towards the production of the book. Those six shilling books which are not paid for by the author sell sometimes a great many thousands-in every case which can be called in the least successful a good deal more than a thousand. The Editor of the Bookman wants to consider the length of time in getting the book off. Well, let us consider it. A six shilling book costs about £100 with advertising. The first subscription, always supposing that it is a book sure of a reasonable success, and therefore not paid for by the author, will certainly earn more than half by the first subscription, in nearly all cases the other half in the first three months. There will not, in any case, be much left to be covered after the first five hundred are gone.

There is nothing whatever to be altered in the notes of last month's Author on this unfortunate letter.

6. In answer to the Editor's "direct question," I have only to call his attention to the notice at the beginning of every Author, that signed articles represent the opinions of the writer only. The paragraphs to which he refers are signed by me as the writer.

I

"AT THE AUTHOR'S HEAD.”

W. B.

N the long list of books published in November, note for purchase or circulating library purposes Austin Dobson's "Hogarth," Gardiner's "History of the Great Civil War," Vol. III., Lord Rosebery's "Pitt," Traill's "Marquis of Salisbury," Churton Collins' "Illustrations of Tennyson," Mrs. Grimwood's "Escape from Manipur," Andrew Lang's "Angling Sketches," Maudslay's "Nature's Warnings," William Morris' " Story of the Glittering Plain," Bullen's "Lyrics from Elizabethan Dramatists," Lecky's "Poems."

A one-volume edition of George Meredith's "One of our Conquerors is now ready. (Chapman and Hall).

A cheap edition is ready of George Macdonald's "There and Back." (Kegan Paul & Co.)

A book out of the common, and far more than commonly interesting, is Mr. Athol Maudslay's "Nature's Weather Warnings and Natural Phenomena." Here are simple rules for forecasting the weather, obsolete weather prognostications, folk lore, flower lore, moon lore-all kinds of things unexpected. It is a little book published by Simpkin, Marshall, and Co.

;

In the new number of the Educational Review are papers by Arthur Sedgwick on "The Women's Question at Oxford by Lyulph Stanley on "The Work before the London School Board"; by A. G. Vernon Harcourt on "Greek from the Science man's Point of View"; by Professor Skeat on "The Educational Value of English," Part II.; and by Arthur Montefiore, on "Nautical Education." The spirit of progress and activity has at last been aroused even in educational papers, which of old were wont to be the dullest of dull organs.

"Glimpses into Nature's Secrets," by Edward Alfred Martin (Elliot Stock), is an attempt to bring under the observer's notice a few facts relating to those creatures of the sea-shore, which, familiar more or less to all, are always replete with interest to the seaside sojourner. The descriptions are neither lengthy nor technical, yet the information is trustworthy, and conveyed with a scientific spirit, although the manner chosen has been a popular one.

There is a new edition of Jefferies' "The Dewy Morn." It now finds a place among Messrs. Bentley and Son's "Favourite Novels."

The narrative of Mrs. Frank Grimwood's escape from the Mutiny of Manipur is a most wonderful story, simply and beautifully told, full of pathos and of situations terrible as well as pathetic. Its success is said to be as great as it deserves.

Let us welcome among the company of novelists a new comer in the person of Miss Mary Dickens, granddaughter of her grandfather. In the children of the great novelist, their father's genius, as constantly happens, has manifested itself in other lines. Perhaps it has reappeared in his granddaughter. The name of the work is " Cross Currents." The publishers are Chapman and Hall. Surely all who love their Charles Dickens will at least pay his memory the compliment by calling for the novel of his grandchild.